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The traffic wasn’t too bad as we drove out of San Diego toward Los Angeles. “Where are you taking me?” I finally interrupted the silence and asked curiously.
“I wanted to show you where I grew up.” He glanced over to check in with me. “If that’s okay?”
I was a little stunned because this was the place that had ruined them, but if it was something he needed to share with me, then I wanted to be there for him like he had been for me. “Of course.”
Another couple of hours passed when we drove into a residential neighborhood. He pulled up to a curb in front of a beautiful two-story house at the end of a cul-de-sac. The yard was unkempt, hinting at its abandonment, making my heart ache. “Is this your house?” I asked.
He shook his head slowly as he looked past me to the house. “This was Tessa and her sister’s house.”
“Oh,” I said softly and took his hand in mine. He squeezed it and flashed an approving smile before it quickly faded. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“There’s nothing to talk about anymore, but I’d love to take a walk with you, if you don’t mind.”
It was a hot summer day in the valley, but there was a breeze that dried the stickiness on my skin. I was wearing a tank top and a pair of shorts that Nichole had lent me and Brandt was in board shorts and a T-shirt.
We held hands as we walked around the neighborhood. It was peaceful. And then my hand tugged hard on his and my feet stopped moving. My mind was hijacked by another memory.
There was a hot pink bike and me as a little girl with a wary look on my face and blonde pigtails. I was afraid. My little heart was racing, and my little hands were trembling. I wanted to be brave, but I had fallen the last time I tried to ride my bike and scraped my knee. Someone was behind me holding on to the bike, keeping me balanced. I looked straight ahead to an abandoned flat street. It was perfect for learning how to ride and I was wearing knee pads, elbow pads, thick fabric wristbands, and a helmet. I looked completely ridiculous, but I was protected, and that was the intention. To protect me so I had the courage to try again. An amazing parallel to my current situation.
The bike started moving slowly at first, and the handlebars wobbled under my grip, but I could feel the encouragement coming from whoever was pushing me. As the bike accelerated, it became easier for me to control it. My little legs pedaled quickly, and I was almost to the end of the street, making me wonder when they would let go. That was the hardest part. Anticipating when I would be on my own. I giggled as I reached the end of the street, putting my feet down to stop. I looked back and saw my dad halfway down, jumping up and down and waving his hands animatedly. Then I heard his voice cross the distance between us. “You did it, Baylor,” was all I heard. It was all I needed to hear.
"Baylor," I said quietly as I choked on a few tears. "My name is Baylor." I heard an exasperated gasp from Brandt, bringing me back to him. I looked into his eyes through tearful joy and said it again more confidently. “My name is Baylor.”
"It's nice to meet you, Baylor.” One side of his mouth twitched under the gravity of the moment. He took my cheeks in his hands and kissed the corner of my eye where a tear was threatening to fall, and then he placed his forehead on mine, closing his eyes, and whispered, “Baylor.”
It was overwhelming, standing there in his arms, on this street, with the memory. My past was swirling around me, so close to revealing itself, and yet all I could think about was Brandt and how much I cared for him. How much I didn’t want to lose him when it all came rushing back.
He pulled away, brushing his thumbs under my eyes to wipe a few stray tears, and took my hand in his and we walked again with the weight of our pasts one step behind, almost in sync with us, but not yet. Not quite.
As we walked, I replayed the image of my dad over and over again.
I remembered my dad.
I remembered my name.
The Santa Ana winds were intense in the valley and had picked up as the day went on. It helped to fill some of the silence that fell between Brandt and me from time to time. We sat on the front porch of the house. Brandt was sitting beside me staring off into the street, or maybe somewhere else entirely. His face stubble proved days of neglect, showing a rugged side to him.
“Why didn’t the house get sold?” I asked while scraping a little stick along the walkway.
“Holding on to the past,” he said in a daze. “What was your dad like?” He turned to me.
I smiled widely, going back to the memory. “He was everything,” I replied simply. And then I giggled.
“What?” He smiled curiously.
I jumped up and held out my hand for him to shake. "Hi, my name is Baylor."
I had a name and it was magnificent.
His eyes lit up as he stood right in front of me, but instead of shaking my hand, he used it to pull me toward him. When his lips finally touched mine, the world spun around wildly, my chest tightened, and my heart froze. The memories of my life flashed before my eyes.
All the pain, the love, the joy, and the disappointment invaded the promise of a perfect love and took hold of every muscle in my body. My body, seized by the past, went limp and fell into his arms. My apologetic eyes were nothing compared to the horror in his. With one shared glance, we both knew a code had been cracked, and the message was bleak.
"I remember."
